


Overthinking It

by I_was_BOTWP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP
Summary: It's eighth year; Draco and Hermione have been named Head Boy and Head Girl. Sharing quarters should make it easier for Draco to ferret out what Hermione has planned to give him for Christmas. He wants to make sure his gift to her isn't too over-the-top, or too simple, compared to hers. But, Draco is stumped - and getting a bit desperate.





	Overthinking It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MykEsprit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/gifts).



> This was written as a gift to MykEsprit after she won a contest in the Facebook group Dramione Fanfiction Forum. Her prize was prompting an admin, and she chose me. Telling you the prompt now would ruin the surprise. I have it noted at the end.

“Couldn’t you at least give me a hint?” Draco pleaded with a small, and he hoped, adorable pout. He clasped one of Hermione’s hands in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

 

With a small tug, she extracted her hand from his grip. Laughing, she shook her head at him. “Good try, but I don’t think so,” she told him as she flounced away.

 

Draco fell onto the sofa in their shared common room with a dramatic sigh, watching her take off her outer robes and hang them over the back of the chair behind her desk. She began to shuffle papers around on her desktop, mind apparently already occupied with end of term work.

 

He groaned, “Granger.”

 

“Mal-foy,” she said back at him in a mocking, sing-song tone, not even bothering to turn and look at him as she unscrewed the lid on her ink bottle. Dipping her quill in, she chewed on the end for a moment before starting to write.

 

There was only one week left before Christmas, and he still had no idea what to get for her. Panic was beginning to set in, and it did not help that last week she had announced, with a saucy smirk, that she already had his present. Every day since then he had tried to sneak a peek in her trunk, under her bed, and everywhere else he suspected it could be hiding.

 

The first day, he waited until she had gone to breakfast before stealthily crossing the hall from his room to hers. Standing just inside her bedroom doorway, he tried summoning it. “Accio Draco’s present!” It had gained him nothing, however; unsurprising when dealing with such a clever witch.

 

On the second day, he purposefully left behind a book they needed for their joint Charms tutoring session with a dozen third years. Insisting they could not properly help the younger students without it, he had sprinted towards the Heads’ quarters, yelling over his shoulder to her to get started without him. Knowing he had only a few minutes to search without raising her suspicions, he had dropped flat to the floor upon entering her room, and wriggled his head and shoulders under her bed. All he received from that endeavor was dusty trousers and jumper, along with a series of scratches when he discovered Crookshanks hidden there, rather than any gifts.

 

On the fourth day, he had completely invaded her privacy by opening her trunk, her wardrobe, and every drawer in their shared bathroom, casting some jinxes he hoped would counter any cloaking or anti-summoning spells, and saying “Accio Draco’s present!” over and over. Later that evening, when she had appeared after hanging out with Luna, she had looked at him with narrowed eyes after using the loo. Perhaps he had been a bit careless with replacing everything where he found it...

 

With each passing day, his lack of success in finding out what Hermione was giving him for Christmas had led to increasingly desperate measures.

 

Yesterday, she had been in Transfiguration while he had a free period, and Draco had resorted to making use of the full hour to manually remove every book she owned from her shelf, carefully ruffling the pages of each one, to see if anything fell out. No luck.

 

The unwelcome eventuality seemed to be cornering Ginny Weasley and asking her for advice. Obviously he was an impatient, nosy fucker, but Draco had an ulterior motive for searching so hard. Risking getting Hermione the wrong present, whether he chose something that was not comparable because he went too far, or didn’t do enough, was not an option.

 

“How much did you spend on me?” he finally blurted out, instantly wishing he could take the uncouth words back. He wanted to shrink down into the crack between the cushions on the couch.

 

That certainly got her attention; she stopped scratching away at the piece of parchment before her and turned to face him instead, brown eyes eyes piercing into his. In a deceptively calm voice, she asked, “Perhaps you would prefer to receive nothing for Christmas, Draco?”

 

Wide-eyed, he sat up straight, gulped, and shook his head. _Merlin._

 

“Well, then stop acting like a child who can’t wait until Christmas morning to unwrap his gifts,” she berated him in voice that made it clear she certainly thought he was a being a child.

 

It was clear she was dismissing him when she turned back around to continue writing her essay. He slumped back down. Consternated, he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up and tugging at some of the strands before rubbing the hand down his face with a groan. Why couldn’t she be anything other than stubborn?

 

At this rate, she was going to end up with a big fat _nothing._

 

Giving up hope on getting anything out of her, he flopped down and stretched out, feeling quietly smug with the spiteful action of putting his feet up on the couch without taking his shoes off. The small, vindictive move went unnoticed however, as Hermione’s head remained bent over her school work. Soon, he was just silently staring at the ceiling, mulling over possible Christmas exchange scenarios in his head.

 

He imagined giving her a carefully chosen heirloom from the Malfoy vaults. Mentally cataloguing the jewels stored there, Draco remembered a purple diamond pendant he was sure no one had worn in centuries. Gifting it to Hermione would be a statement to both his parents and the younger Greengrass sister, who still seemed to be forlornly holding out hope for a marriage contract. Unfortunately, he feared his and Hermione’s relationship was not quite ready for this bold of a declaration. And he certainly did not expect that she was hiding a gift for him which would prove differently.

 

What if Hermione gave him one of her handmade knitted scarves? Although he excelled at the charms needed to make badges, he doubted a couple dozen sparkly badges advertising spew ( _It_ _'s S.P.E.W.,_ he heard a certain swotty voice chastising him in his head) would cut it. It would be best to hope he did not discover any new wool sitting around their common room, forcing him to reciprocate in kind.

 

During their recent Hogsmeade weekend, Draco had caught her eyeing an elegant desktop set, complete with a crystal inkwell charmed unspillable and unbreakable, a blotter with mother-of-pearl and brass inlay, and a perpetually sharp quill. Undoubtedly, she would appreciate such a thoughtful gift and immediately place it on her work-space, carefully aligning it with the edge of the desk as she was wont to do. _At least it wouldn’t be a book._

 

He paused to consider that thought. How cliche would it be to get her a book? Perhaps something rare or very old. Or both. Fairly quickly, he discarded the idea of both the desk set and the book. From Muggle Studies, he recalled devices called biros. Suspecting Hermione might begin using those more often upon leaving school (they sounded dead handy, honestly), he did not want to get her something she would not fully appreciate. Odds were, if she would get her books from someone else, his would simply get lost in the pile.

 

Startled, he sat up. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.

 

Sparing Hermione a glance, he determined she was still deliberating over her parchment. Usually, being ignored would bother Draco, and he would be seeking her attention in subtle, and possibly not-so-subtle, ways. However, this was one time he was happy to not have to explain himself.

 

Hypothetically, he supposed she may have been looking at that desktop set with him in mind. Could she have been sneaky enough to purchase it after he showed a mild interest in it? Interest which had only occurred because of her apparent consideration? Presumably the set was unique, so odds were if he chose to owl the owner of the shop and request to purchase it, the pair of them would not end up gifting each other the same thing. Or, Draco could discover the set was already sold.

 

Strangely enough, after days of trying to determine what she had gotten for him, he suddenly felt cold dread rather than elation upon stumbling onto a possible clue. What had seemed like a lark up until now, felt… wrong.

 

His attention was drawn back to reality when he heard Hermione’s chair scrape across the stone floor as she stood up. Crookshanks appeared from behind a set of drapes, sensing his companion would be heading to bed. Twining between her legs, the furry menace meowed as Hermione stretched her back and rotated her neck to work out a kink.

 

She turned to him. “Don’t you have any homework?”

 

Distractedly, he shook his head. He untied his shoes and sent them off to the corner with a wandless spell. Standing up, he waved a hand to cast the charms that would extinguish their fire and lock the door into their suite for the night. It was just a few steps to where she stood staring at him with a small frown - he closed the distance without a thought.

 

When he stopped directly in front of her, Hermione tilted her head up to look him in the face. There was a crease between her brows and she cocked her head to the side, contemplating him. Draco reached up to cup her cheek and caressed his fingers along her jaw. Her eyes darted down to his lips.

 

Smiling smugly, he told her in a low voice, “I made sure to get it all done while we were apart today, so I could give you my full attention and time while we were together.”

 

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening. Draco enjoyed watching a small blush creep onto her cheeks and the way she bit her lower lip in consternation. “Sorry, I should have done the same. We only have a few more days together before we head home for the holidays. If I had known-”

 

“Don’t apologize,” he cut her off. “I enjoy spending time with you. Even if it’s me lying on the couch in front of the fire while you work.” And he meant it, which was a bit of a revelation, even to himself.

 

Along with that epiphany, came inspiration. He knew just what he would get for her. Triumph swept through him as he bent down to kiss her waiting lips.

* * *

On their last evening before they were to board the train home for break, Draco and Hermione made their way back to the Heads’ room as soon as they could sneak away from the parting feast in the Great Hall.

 

“I want time alone to exchange our gifts,” he had whispered into her ear, before they had even begun serving food. All during dinner, she had rubbed his thigh, her hand incrementally traveling higher and higher towards a place it was taking all of his concentration to ignore.

 

Never before had he so badly wanted to skip dessert and run straight to their dorm, but if she felt the same, she had hidden it well. Sporting a smirk, Hermione only slowly ate her pudding.

 

Once they were tucked away in the privacy of their common room, with their robes and shoes removed and a fire cracking in their grate, Hermione suddenly turned shy. She arranged herself carefully in a corner of the couch, stocking-clad feet tucked under her. Dropping her eyes to her pleated skirt, she worried the hem between her fingers.

 

“Hey,” Draco said softly, sitting opposite her and reaching over to gently squeeze her knee. “I'm going to love whatever you got for me. Want to go first and get it out of the way?”

 

“No,” she replied, her cheeks turning pink. “You first.”

 

Leaping up, he went over to his bookshelf, pulling out a book he had purchased a few days ago via owl order. He had not wrapped it, but had instead thought it a brilliant idea to hide it in plain sight. Now, he handed it to her, wondering how she would react.

 

Quizzically, she read the title aloud, “ _Best of London: City Guide_?” Turning it over to inspect the back, she politely said, “It’s lovely… but why would you buy me a tourist book about Muggle London?”

 

“Open it,” he told her, smiling encouragingly.

 

Flipping to the first page, she looked at it, then back to him.

 

Rolling his eyes, but still smiling broadly, he admonished, “Keep going.”

 

It was not until the seventh page that she came upon the first marker he had placed. “I marked some places I thought would be interesting. I was wondering,” he spoke hesitantly, “if you have a bit of time over break, maybe we could visit them together? You could show me around? I would pay for any tickets, of course. And tea or dinner. It wouldn’t be much of a Christmas present if I didn’t. I want to experience a bit of Muggle London, but couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone other than you.”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Oh, Draco! This is the most amazing…” her voice trailed off and she put a hand to his chest with her fingers splayed over his heart. “Thank you,” she whispered, a sappy grin appearing.

 

She bent forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointment surged through him. He had been hoping for a different reaction than that chaste kiss. He grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull her back in.

 

As if reading his mind, she shook a finger at him. “Nope!” she told him in a cheeky voice. “First you have to open your gift! Stay right here on the sofa while I go get it ready. No peeking before I call you. I promise it won’t take long. I know you've been sneaking around, trying to figure it out. I hope… well, I hope it lives up to your high standards.”

 

Rising, she gave him a wink, then sauntered towards her room. It was only a few minutes’ time that she kept him waiting.

 

“Okay,” she called out, voice trembling with the same apparent nervousness from earlier, but growing bolder as she added, “you can come in now.”

 

Slowly, he entered her room. The lights had been lowered and she was not standing in the middle of the room holding a box, as he had expected. Instead, the few dimly lit candles atop her nightstand and trunk revealed something scintillating. Perched upon her bed sat Hermione Granger, wearing nothing but criss-crossed green satin ribbons and a strategically placed bow.

 

Tentatively she smiled. “I thought, perhaps, for Christmas, you’d enjoy unwrapping me?”

 

No wonder he had never been able to find his gift while she had been out.

 

His hands were already making quick work of yanking off his tie when he told her, “Best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one-shot was: strategically placed bow. Hope you enjoyed! And if you did, then it is undoubtedly thanks to HeartOfAspen, because she is an amazing beta!


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